


House Guests

by me_midget (gin_tonic)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: samhain_smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-15
Updated: 2012-10-15
Packaged: 2017-11-23 00:20:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/615981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gin_tonic/pseuds/me_midget
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a legend of a house that, each year on All Hallows' Eve, tricks four strangers to venture inside.<br/><b>Prompt #</b> 31: What happens when Character A visits a haunted house? What kind of mischief/fun do they get into?<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	House Guests

**Author's Note:**

> I have to give a gazillion thanks to my beta A, who is truly wonderful and über awesome!

There's a legend that teenagers tell each other. It's a legend of a house that, each year on All Hallows' Eve, tricks four strangers to venture inside. Nobody knows what happens to them, nobody knows what happens to the house. The only thing that is certain is that it will forever change their lives.

******

Harry didn't know why he'd come there in the first place. He'd been strolling around, breathing in the musty autumn air, looking at the children running around in costumes, already high on sugar. He'd never done that as a kid. The Dursleys hadn't wanted to spend any money on a costume for him and once, when he'd made one out of garbage bags, he'd been locked inside his cupboard until he had to go back to school. Hogwarts' Halloween had held a specialness to itself, naturally, but this – this Muggle tradition of going from door to door to score sweets – seemed so normal and wonderful that Harry ached with envy. There was still time till he had to go to Seamus' party and Harry had enjoyed himself during his walk. Until now, that was. Now he was standing in front of a slightly creepy looking detached house without knowing why he'd come here or why he'd stopped. There was no one around: no children or boisterous adults to ask.

Harry made to walk away when he suddenly saw a familiar looking redhead walk into the house. Harry's eyes widened. He couldn't be mistaken – the tell-tale red hair, the broad shoulders and the slight confident swagger in his stance – he'd just seen Charlie Weasley. Charlie, who had been a crush of Harry's for an embarrassingly long time.

Why would Charlie go into this creepy house? Surely there was a good reason. A party maybe... though the place didn't exactly look like a party location. More like a trap.

Harry took a deep breath and followed Charlie into the house. Whatever was going on, he would find out. And save Charlie.

******

Charlie looked around the narrow foyer. The place reminded him of Grimmauld Place for some reason. Maybe it was the dinginess, maybe the feeling of oppression that was bearing down on him. Whatever it was, he did not like it one bit. That time held too many bad memories. Being cooped up inside that dreadful house, the fear for his dad and the war looming. Charlie and the other grown-ups had tried to keep it from the kids – not that the idea had been any good. Actually he had known that it made no sense to try and hide what was happening. His mum had insisted, but his brothers, Ginny, Hermione and mainly Harry had to grow up fast anyway. It had been the start of the war, the start of all the bad things that were going to happen.

Nothing about that year had been particularly happy, not even Christmas. Granted, he had spent most of it in Romania, but even there he'd been working for the Order already, with danger lurking behind every corner.

Charlie shook his head and tried to drive the gloomy thoughts away. One day he'd have to face what went on during the war, but not now. For now he had to find out where George had gone. Because that was the only reason why he'd stepped into this blasted house. He'd spotted George walking inside and had to follow him. George in a gloomy house around Samhain was not good at all. Ever since Fred died, George hadn't really been the same. None of them was, really, but for George it was harder. And both on the anniversary of Fred's death and on Samhain George behaved… strangely. How he had escaped Ginny's watchful eye was a question for itself, though.

Charlie gripped his wand tighter and moved towards the door closest to him. He nudged it open with a foot, but it was so dark inside that he had no choice but to whisper, " _Lumos_ ", and enter.

******

George was tempted to flop down on the kitchen chair to take a break from stumbling through this stupid house. He had been in this kitchen at least three times already and even though he had always chosen a different route, he'd always ended up back here. He cursed himself and cursed Viktor Krum. Viktor, who he had seen walk into this house that looked a bit like one of those horror houses he and Fred had planned to set up at some point for Samhain. Not that it had ever got to that.

"Stupid," George growled at himself. All he had been looking for, really, while strolling through town, was some distraction. The last couple of years he had been miserable on Samhain, mostly because he had actually believed that the saying 'The walls between the living and dead are thin on All Hallows Eve' would mean that he'd get to talk to Fred again. And so he had tried to contact him, unsuccessfully, every year. But not this year. This year he's sworn to himself and to Fred that he'd make an effort to let to and to do something everyone else was doing. Which was why he'd been in town. And then he'd seen Viktor and had though, there's your distraction.

George snorted. The only thing this little adventure had got him was sore feet and a feeling of vertigo. He should have known this wasn't just any ordinary house. Growling again, George made for the door again. The house would not best him. He'd find Viktor and he'd get his bloody distraction, dammit!

******

Viktor inched closer to the window and looked left and right, but he could spot no one. He could have sworn he had seen people in need up here. They had been knocking against the window, crying for help. He was equally sure that they had been terribly familiar – one had looked uncannily like George Weasley. And this was the window, Viktor was certain of that, but no one was in the room and there were no signs that anyone had been here for a long time. Dust lay on the floor like a thick carpet, pieces of it swirling through the air as he moved. He had entered the house with the intention to help, but now he got the strange feeling that he really was the one who was in need of help.

Viktor had been on his way to a party and hadn't even intended to go down this street. But something had drawn him here. By now it was clear that whatever it had been hadn't been pure coincidence. Logic also told him that getting out of the house he had entered so well intentioned wouldn't be as easy. Nevertheless, Viktor turned to walk back the exact path he had taken to come up here. Except that the door he had used to enter the attic was gone.

A thoroughly meant "Fuck" escaped his lips, followed by considering blowing a hole into the wall. But if Durmstrang had taught him one thing it was to expect the unexpected – blowing up the wall could just as well backfire. It was just as well that he spotted the narrow, ancient looking door to his right.

******

Something was scurrying in the dark, sounds coming from everywhere, even from behind the walls. Harry hoped it was spiders – spiders he could deal with, even though that fiasco with Aragog hadn't exactly been pleasant. Rats on the other hand... Harry really hoped it wasn't rats.

Harry swallowed thickly and tried to ignore the bile that was creeping up his throat. During the war he had once seen a rat feast on a rotting body. They had always been particularly quick about finding the dead, quick enough to make Harry have nightmares about rats attacking him while he slept. Not that Harry would ever admit to those dreams – it was hard enough knowing that about himself. He didn't need other people knowing, too. Especially since The Saviour's greatest fear during the war couldn't possibly be to be gnawed on by rats. Not when other people had been afraid of dying or their families being killed.

Harry held his wand higher and ran a hand through his hair. He wished the _Point Me_ spell would work, but for some reason the only thing the spell did was to spray sparkles into the darkness.

Harry listened into the quiet of the house, hoping to detect footsteps somewhere that would lead him to Charlie. Instead he got the sound of tiny, clawed feet on the ground, scurrying. He jerked back – he could swear he'd heard a squeak.

After the war, after it had been over, Harry had tried to deal with what had happened. But instead of letting go, instead of getting over irrational fears, it had only lead to more disturbing conclusions: he had been dead. Dead and lying in the woods. And he doubted that Voldemort and his Death Eaters had cared enough to keep rats away. The suspicions suddenly made the nightmares a lot more real. Ever since thinking about that, the image of rats biting into his dead flesh had haunted him. And maybe that was what this house did. Like a Boggart it zeroed in on your fears and haunted you with them. And as a loud squeak made Harry whirl around, Harry knew he was screwed.

******

George walked down the hallway, trying to find something to give him at least some sense of direction. But all that he got was that he hadn't been there before. There were no windows, no furniture. It was... empty. George shivered at the thought. He knew he shouldn't have rushed into this bloody house, but the realisation came too late. What if he was caught here, forever? He'd die alone, with no one for solace, with no one to hold his hand and ease the pain.

George swallowed heavily and tried to tap into his inner pool of Gryffindor courage. It had helped him to face Snape, Filch and Umbridge in school, and it had helped to set up Potterwatch during the war. This was just a stupid house. Fred would be disappointed if he let himself be bested by a house of all things. And so he trudged on.

******

Charlie could swear he had heard his brother somewhere close by. It had been a typical cry of frustration – one that he had so often heard coming from the twins' room when yet another experiment had failed. George had to be close! Charlie increased the pace, almost jogged through the hallway. Suddenly, he stumbled, felt his ankle give and cursed – loud and colourful. Pain shot through his foot and leg and he had to concentrate on taking deep breaths in order not to fall. Charlie blinked, black spots dancing in front of his face, and cast a quick diagnostic spell.

"Twisted. Fuck!" It was then that he heard a rumble go through the house. As he looked up he could swear that the walls were starting to move. He swallowed thickly, cursed his inability to cast proper healing spells, and forced himself to march on.

Charlie tried to pretend that the walls weren't closing in. His mind was clearly playing tricks on him. But he could feel the walls against both of his arms, could feel movement. Were they pulsing? No. No, that just wasn't possible. Then again... No. His breath was coming quicker now. His chest felt like someone was pressing against it, restricting him not only from his sides, but also from the front. And just when he was thinking he wouldn't be able to take it anymore, he heard a scream. Charlie plunged forward as fast as he could.

******

Harry stared down the conglomerate of rats in front of him and prayed at the same time they wouldn't come any closer. Cold sweat ran down his forehead, down until it reached his neckline. He had his wand trained on them, but couldn't bring himself to cast a spell. They were only animals, after all and something deep inside him kept Harry from hurting them. Unfortunately the same logic didn't apply to his fears.

Harry jerked back when the door opened with loud crack. In burst Charlie Weasley, of all people, wand at the ready and looking like he was about to hex someone into the next millennium. Before Harry could say anything, one of the rats charged at him, only to be knocked aside by a quick spell falling from Charlie's lips. The other rats scattered.

"Charlie?!"

Charlie blinked. "Harry? What the hell are you doing here?!"

Harry had the grace to blush. "Well, I was actually saving you." Not technically true, at least not at the beginning, but it had been his intention at one point. Before the rats came. "I saw you walk inside the house and... well. I just followed you."

"Huh. And I was following George." Charlie leant against a chest of drawers and explained to Harry what was going on, at least to his knowledge. Not that it made anything clearer, exactly, but at least Harry knew that he hadn't fallen into the trap all alone.

Finally, Charlie looked at the rat he had just zapped and asked: "I thought you were afraid of Dementors." As Harry looked at him with surprise, Charlie shrugged apologetically. "Ron told me," he added.

"I was. But after the war... I don't know. Things changed. It's not even rational."

Charlie nodded. "Is it because of Wormtail?"

"Honestly, I don't know."

Charlie just nodded and Harry stepped closer to him. Not because he was looking for protection, of course, but because it was Charlie. Charlie, who said: "Let's go find George and get out of here."

******

George pushed through the next door, only to find himself back in the kitchen again. He let out a mixture between curse and keening and flopped back on the chair he had occupied before. Head in his hands, George tried to think of a way to get out. He had tried approaching the house like a maze, but despite the obvious similarities, the approach didn't seem to work. Maybe he should treat the house like an allegory – maybe he had to do something specific to be let out. He mentally sorted through places he had heard about that required performances like that, like an old castle in Wales where you had to tell a joke about the English in order to find your way out. Or that tomb in Egypt Bill had to him about, where he had to get naked and shimmy around a statue. But those didn't tell him what to do either.

"Are you unwell?"

George jerked up, wand at the ready when he heard the voice, only to find himself face to face with Viktor Krum. Indescribably glad not to be alone anymore – and to have been found by none other than the man he had been looking for – George threw himself at Viktor and hugged him tight.

"Sorry about this," George said against Viktor's shoulder.

"It is alright," Viktor said and hugged George with one arm. "I am glad that I found you."

George moved back a bit without letting go of Viktor. "You were looking for me?" George frowned. "But how did you know I was here? I entered the house after you did."

Viktor shook his head. "I saw you in a window. Up on the first floor."

"Can't have been me. I never stood near any window."

Viktor was silent for a moment. "This house," he finally said, "It tricks your mind."

And while George agreed, his body finally noticed the close proximity of Viktor's very fit one, and liked it. He slightly angled his crotch another way and coughed. "Shall we try to find our way outside?"

"Why, do you have plans for tonight?"

"No, I... This house just gives me the creeps." George said and thought of the many times the house had led him back to the kitchen. As if it has wanted him to be found here. "Don't you want to leave?"

"I thought we could go exploring."

"I didn't think you would be this adventurous."

Viktor shrugged. "Why do you think I participated in the Triwizard tournament?"

"I always thought it was a publicity stunt of some sort."

Viktor huffed. "Oh, it was good for Durmstrang and for Bulgaria that I was a Champion. But the cup wouldn't have picked me had I not voluntarily put my name in the draw. I really wanted to be a Champion and I really wanted to win."

George regarded Viktor with what he could only describe as stunned admiration. "I never knew," George said, then shook his head. Extended his hand to Viktor and added: "Let's go exploring then!"

******

Harry cast Lumos again, this time with a little more power in it in order to light up the last little corners of this room. "Seriously," he said, "How many rooms does this bloody house have?"

Charlie held up his own wand as they hobbled along the bookshelves, examining the dusty tomes. "No clue, really. I tried counting after the third room or so, but I got side-tracked."

Harry nodded. It had been the same for him – his distraction being the rats. He wondered what it had been for Charlie, but didn't dare ask. Especially because he didn't want to return to the topic of his fear of rodents. Too much psychological pondering, too little fun for tonight. But whatever it had been, it either had stopped – much like that rats had stopped appearing – or Charlie just didn't care anymore. It didn't make much of a difference, either way.

"I do know, though," Charlie continued, "That I went up some stairs to get here."

Harry frowned. "I didn't. Neither up nor down. How's that possible?"

Charlie shrugged. "Magic, of course."

"With stuff like this I really have to stop asking for the why," Harry mumbled. They walked towards the next door, wondering whether it might lead them further or not. He was almost at the end of his rope – and not far from blasting his way out.

******

Viktor sneaked glances at George while they were making their way through gloomy rooms, One looking as drab and dusty as the next. Only spiders and rats seemed to occupy the house, but Viktor had learned to be vigilant and not to trust things that appeared quiet and peaceful. Despite being trapped in the house – though the situation seemed less dire now that he had George for company – he couldn't help but wonder why they were there in the first place.

"May I ask you something?" he asked when the stopped to take a breath in a room that looked like an oversized, empty pantry.

George shrugged. "Sure."

"I know why I walked into the house – and you know that, too – but why did you?"

George looked at one of the shelves to their left and shrugged again. Viktor decided to stay silent and wait. Experience told him that people often strove to fill the silence, and they opened up about something they might not have shared otherwise. All they needed was a little bit of time. It was like that with George: "I saw you go in. Thought something fun was going on..." George shook his head. "No, actually I just thought _something_ was going on. Even if I hadn't been curious, I would have followed you." George took a deep breath, like one of those that people will always take when something heavy weighs on their shoulders or when they find themselves faced with an obstacle that seems too huge to overcome. It made Viktor move closer to him, almost close enough to touch George. "You know," George continued, "Fred has been dead for years now and I –"

"I know." Viktor interrupted him and put his hand on George's arm. George looked up and smiled faintly at him.

"Do you know what he would have said if he was here? Go for it." And before Viktor had the chance to ask what he meant, George pulled Viktor's head down with a hand on the back of his neck and kissed him, hard and sweet at the same time.

******

A noise far off made Harry twitch and grapple for his wand. It was a habit from the war that was hard to forget. Now if only the noise hadn't been caused by rats. When he heard it a second time, Charlie tensed, too. Harry noticed that suddenly they were so much closer to each other than they had been before – sides pressed against each other – so close that Harry could feel Charlie's heartbeat. He didn't know who had moved – maybe they both had – but his libido decided it didn't matter much. Refusing to analyse how he could both be afraid and aroused, Harry tried his best to concentrate on the noise.

"What do you think it is?" he asked, already plotting how to fight whatever this house had in store. Boggarts, Dementors... He could handle those.

"George is somewhere in the house."

"You think it was him?" Harry pictured George lying somewhere, possibly hurt and scared. Not following the noise wasn't even an option now, nor did Charlie have to ask. Harry just led them through the next door and steadily followed the sound that was coming in odd intervals now.

******

The groans came clearer now and Charlie tightened his grip on Harry's shoulder. He flexed his fingers around his wand, then nodded at Harry. Harry pushed the door open and they both stretched, both on edge, to look inside.

A wand, its tip lit, was lying on the ground and next to it two figures moved. At first glance Charlie thought they were wrestling, but then he recognised the movements as too familiar. Next to him, Harry snorted in amusement, but the two on the ground took no notice. As they turned away in unison to let his little brother rut against Viktor Krum in peace, Charlie shook his head and felt relief flood him. And maybe – no matter how wrong – a little bit of something else.

They had barely made it into the next dusty sitting room they had come from, when Harry twisted them and kissed Charlie. Maybe he wasn't the only one who had liked George's and Viktor's idea. It didn't matter, though, because Harry was not only an enthusiastic kisser, but also a damn good one. Made one wonder what other things he could do with his talented mouth.

As they broke apart, no apologies rained from Harry's lips. Rather he looked at Charlie with fire in his eyes. Charlie wasn't about to turn down what was on offer.

******

Nearly delirious from lust and Charlie's kisses, Harry had somehow manoeuvred them over to a chintz couch that had seen better days. It wasn't perfect, but it was probably more comfortable for both of them.

Still, Charlie winced when he moved next. "Are you sure it's okay?" Harry asked almost shyly. He didn't even know where this was going.

Charlie snorted. "Really, Harry. It's my ankle that's twisted, not my cock."

Harry regarded Charlie for a second, then nodded and moved to kiss him again.

******

"Are they gone?" George asked a bit after hearing the door close. Viktor blinked at him.

"Who?"

George grinned. "Nobody. Forget about it." His brother would be all right – he was with Harry after all. And he had wanted to fuck Harry for so long – hadn't because of what surely were noble reasons, the idiot. If Charlie took cues from him, he would be getting some right about now. George pushed that thought aside and concentrated on more pleasurable things. Like his very curious hand that had just opened Viktor's fly. Viktor's moan told George that he liked where this was going.

A grin on his face, George moved his head down, licked his lips and, at the same time, pulled Viktor's sizable dick out. He licked his lips again.

******

Harry sank down on Charlie's dick, biting his lip as he became accustomed to its thickness. While it hadn't been too long since his last fling, the guy he had been with before had been a bit more on the thinner side of cocks.

"Fuck! You feel so good!" Charlie moaned and pushed up against Harry. Charlie looked gorgeous on the old settee – sweaty and gloriously naked, his nipples practically begging to be flicked and sucked.  
"You don't look bad yourself," Charlie said with a grin. Normally Harry would have blushed, but as he was already riding Charlie's cock, blushing was a bit moot. Harry grinned back and started to move. He reached out and flicked one of Charlie's nipples, eliciting yet another moan from him. Charlie's hands started wandering as Harry fucked himself harder on Charlie's dick, moving from Harry's legs to his hip, to his buttocks, spreading them even further.

"God, Charlie!"

One keen hand started moving again, this time to Harry's nipple. One pinch, then it went to Harry's neck pulling him down so Charlie could kiss him. Tongues wet and hot against each other, cock fucked arse; the sound of flesh slapping against flesh mixing with moans and whimpering in the air. Their breaths came quicker at the same time and as Charlie slammed his hips upwards in those final, desperate moments, Harry threw his head back and cried out.

******

George pulled his jumper over his head and grinned up at Viktor, who was fastening the last buttons of his shirt. Viktor's Floo coordinates in his pocket and his invitation to grab dinner already accepted, they made their way to the door - and found themselves in the entrance hall. Another door creaked and Charlie and Harry joined them, looking as surprised to find the exit as they were.

"Harry! What are you doing here?" Viktor exclaimed, but before Harry had the chance to answer, George said: "I guess the same thing we did." Their clasped hands definitely hadn't escaped his inquisitive eye.

Charlie chuckled – of course he would, the smug bastard – and winked at George. "See you on Sunday?"

"Of course," George said as they left the house. "Mum's making pot roast."

The End


End file.
